


Red

by Skylily



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, idk what else to tag this sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 22:35:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13063587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylily/pseuds/Skylily
Summary: Lance is crying and Keith doesn't know what to do . . . but he tries his best anyway.Title after Taylor Swift's "Red"





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: "I went over to your room because you were blasting music to find you lying in a pile of pillows sobbing and listening to some love song and now I don't know what to do" 
> 
> Also:  
> 1) I intended to follow the prompt but I have no self-control. I hope you enjoy it anyway.  
> 2) I have no idea the timeline of this  
> and 3) I couldn't find a beta so.. unbeta'd, sorry!

It was . . . well, Keith didn’t know what time it was really, but he was trying to sleep and Lance was  _ blasting  _ music in his room next to Keith’s. Fed up, Keith kicked off his blanket and stormed out of his room.

“Lance!” he shouted, hoping to be heard over the god-awful music. Was that  _ Taylor Swift _ ? “Lance _ ,  _ open this door right now.”

Inside the room, Keith could hear Lance singing along to the chorus: “ _ He’s the reason for the teardrops on my guitar . . . _ ” 

Keith groaned, smacking his head against the door. He banged his fist against the cold metal. “Lance!”

Without warning, the doors slid open. Keith stumbled forward but hands caught his shoulders, pushing him back to his feet. Looking up, Lance stared right back at him, dazzling smile on his lips. “Oh, hello Keith.” 

Keith crossed his arms, forcing Lance’s hands to fall.  _ Warm, so warm _ . Keith hated himself for noticing; it made him grumpy. Scowling, Keith ignored Lance’s polite greeting and bit out, “Turn it off.”

Lance crossed his arms, too. “What? No.”

It was the catch in his voice that made Keith look up further, to meet Lance’s eyes. They were red-rimmed and puffy, like he’d been crying. Keith’s scowl deepened, concerned rather than annoyed. “Are you okay?”

Lance’s eyes widened. “Me? Okay? Of course!” he smiled, but Keith noticed it didn’t meet his eyes. When had he started noticing things like that? “But while it’s always a pleasure to see your pretty face, you have to go. I’m busy, good night!” Then Lance was literally pushing Keith out of his room. 

“Wait, Lance,  _ wai--”  _ Lance didn’t wait, the doors slid closed, and Keith was left staring at the grey doors. “Lance!” 

Keith didn’t feel right leaving Lance knowing he wasn’t okay. So instead of leaving, he slid down the door and rested his back against it. He guessed Lance wouldn’t be able to hear him, but hoping he would, Keith started talking.

“Lance. . . I know I came here to yell at you . . . and I know I yell at you a lot. . . but please talk to me. If you don’t want to talk to me, I can get Hunk. You . . . I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Keith didn’t get a response, but he heard the music cut off. Then he was falling backwards as the doors opened suddenly. Scrambling onto his knees, Keith realized he landed on a mound of blankets, and a couple feet away from him, Lance laid on the mound, too. Crying. Keith couldn’t see his face, but his thin shoulders were shaking, hard.

Something inside Keith hurt. “Oh, Lance.” 

Keith crawled over the blankets to him. Should he reach out with a comforting hand? Offer reassuring words? Keith wasn’t good with words, or invading personal space. But he had limited options.

He decided to reach out, hoping he could at least stop the shakes raking Lance’s body. And his touch did. Just not in the way he hoped. Lance seemed to stiffen all over. 

Without removing himself from underneath his arms, Lance asked, “Why are you here, Keith?” 

They were the last words Keith was expecting. “What?”

“Why are you  _ here?”  _ he repeated. “Don’t tell me you’re here because you feel sorry for me.” 

Keith opened his mouth, but words failed to come to him. He wasn’t good at this, at talking, at  _ comforting _ . He scrambled for something, anything, but Lance was already speaking again.

“Just go.”

“No,” Keith said, and it was the surest thing he could’ve said. “You’re. . . you’re upset.”

Lance scoffed, finally sitting up. His reddened face hurt Keith somewhere in his chest. “I’m fine, it’s not a big deal.”

“You’re crying,” Keith said. 

Lance rolled his eyes. “Thanks for stating the obvious, Red. Now, if you could leave . . .”

“What’s wrong, Lance?” he said, ignoring him. 

“Nothing.”

“You’re not crying over nothing.” Keith said. He leaned forward, forcing Lance to meet his eyes. When Lance didn’t look away from him, he insisted, “I’m not here because I pity you. I’m here because you’re upset. Because you’re a valuable member of Voltron, and because you’re my . . . you’re my friend.” 

Lance blanched at the word spill and turned away. Keith felt strangely vulnerable after the torrent of words, too, and regretted saying so much until Lance spoke up.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. He was staring down at the blankets beneath him and blindly reached for a pillow to hold to his chest. Lance squeezed it like he was holding on for dear life. “It really is stupid, though. I’ll be okay.”

Keith leaned forward a little, making sure to capture Lance’s gaze again. He found himself wanting to reach for his hand but he didn’t. “You can talk to me. You can trust me.”

Lance nodded but turned away again. If Keith wasn’t mistaken, a faint blush seemed to be making its way across Lance’s cheeks, his neck. Keith looked away, too. 

“I know I can,” Lance said. 

Keith was the one blushing this time. He wanted Lance to know he could trust him; it made him happy knowing that he did. Barely above a whisper, he asked again, “What’s wrong?” 

Lance squeezed the pillow, shrugging his shoulders.

“Lance.”

Lance closed his eyes, burrowing his face into the pillow. He said something, but it came out muffled against the pillow.

“I can’t hear you like that,” Keith said gently. 

“I just feel like nobody loves me.” Lance admitted in a rush. His face was definitely red this time. 

Keith sat back at the words, taken aback. “Oh.”

“See!” Lance exclaimed, hiding back behind the pillow. “It’s stupid.”

“No,” Keith shook his head, firm. “It’s not.”

“It  _ is.” _

“It’s  _ not.” _

Lance scowled. “Is too.”

Keith gave up, exhaling dramatically. “No,” he said. “It’s not.” 

Lance slouched in on himself and Keith found himself wanting to reach out again. This time, he allowed himself to. He placed a hand on top of Lance’s shoulder and continued, “You’re allowed to feel however you feel.” Then, “But you  _ are  _ loved, Lance.”

“Not in the way I want to be.” Lance said quietly.

Keith figured he knew what Lance meant but he asked anyway. “Like. . . romantically?”

“Don’t make me say it,” Lance whined, hiding again.

“Okay, I won’t.” Keith said, patting Lance’s shoulder awkwardly. “But listen. . . a romantic relationship isn’t always the most important thing.” He paused, then laughed softly, adding, “Your friends love you, the entire universe loves you.”

Lance sighed. “It’s not the same.”

“Why not?” 

“It’s just not, I don’t know how to explain it. Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” 

Keith blinked. “I don’t,” he said, but it came out more like a question.

Lance said, “You don’t?”

“No. . . ?” 

Several expressions seemed to flicker over Lance’s face before a smirk finally settled. “Are you telling me you’ve never had a crush? Fallen in love? Had a girlfriend? . . . Or a boyfriend, I don’t judge.” Lance winked, his typical self reappearing in a flash. 

Keith blushed, crossing his arms. “I’ve had crushes.” he said. It seemed like a heavier confession than it was, telling Lance,  _ his crush.  _ He hadn’t been able to deny the fact for weeks now.

“Interesting,” Lance hummed, but then he grew serious again. “But then why can’t you understand how it’s different?”

Keith shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve just never felt the need to prioritize romantic over platonic.” 

“You’ve never wanted . . . your crush’s attention more?” Lance asked, almost sheepish. He wouldn’t meet Keith’s eyes.

Keith thought about it. He always wanted to connect with Lance more, like how Hunk did so effortlessly. Keith wanted that, wanted Lance to talk to him that easily, that often. He hated Lance’s flirting with Allura, his flirting with other aliens. . . Keith wanted Lance to notice things about him, to flirt with  _ him.  _

Keith shook himself out of his thoughts; he could feel his cheeks burning. 

“I do,” Keith admitted, then hurried on when he realized his mistake of using the present tense. “But friends matter, too. I’d want my friends attention, too. It’s about balance.” 

Lance eyed him like he was trying to figure something out and Keith prayed he hadn’t caught onto what he’d said _. I do  _ want my crush’s attention more. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“That’s fair,” Lance said, sighing. He put the pillow down and patted it gently. “Thanks, Keith.”

“Sure,” he said, swallowing. Keith had said more tonight than he had in days. And to Lance, of all people. The thought had him pleasantly pleased. “Any time.”

“Careful,” Lance grinned. His face had lost some of the red, and his eyes were still puffy but less so. “I might hold you to that.”

Keith smiled. “I hope you do.”

Lance stood then and helped Keith to his feet, too. Lance rubbed at his neck, awkward. “Sorry about blasting my music, by the way. That was rude of me.”

“It’s okay,” Keith said, remembering his younger self. “I understand wanting to drown out the world.”

Lance smiled, then said, “It is pretty late though. We should both get some sleep.”

“Right, yeah,” he coughed, backing up towards the door. Keith was careful about where he stepped, afraid he’d trip over the endless blankets. “Good night, Lance.”

“Good night, Keith.” Lance said, smile still present. “And thanks...again.”

Keith nodded, not sure what else to say. Lance’s door closed behind him after that, and Keith started towards his room, a sweet warmness making its way throughout his body. As he reached his door, he wasn’t surprised to hear Taylor Swift playing through the walls again.

It put a smile to his lips this time, though. He listened for a second, then knew he had to go to bed. His doors closed but he still faintly heard: “ _ Loving him was red. . . _ ”


End file.
